


The Most of Many Grievances

by morelikeassassin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ableism-adjacent, F/F, Non-graphic depictions of violence I guess?, because elias is an ass, it's fairly detailed but nothing very graphic is done, it's not meant to be a crack at Melanie's blindness tbh more at her leaving the institute, someone is stabbed and bleeds, there is a knife fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morelikeassassin/pseuds/morelikeassassin
Summary: Melanie arrives at the Institute at the end of the world with one singular goal. Well, maybe one-and-a-half goals.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	The Most of Many Grievances

**Author's Note:**

> AU with Melanie and Georgie bumping into Basira before the boys, and where Daisy had a slightly different priority that ended her up in a slightly different place. I started writing this AGES ago before 177-178 and such, but couldn't quite get the lead-up to where I wanted it, so, I'm just posting it without.

Melanie kicked against something small and heavy. She felt around for it with her cane, and was about to pick it up when she heard the whir of a cassette tape echoing through the hallway. She scowled.

“Quit it,” she muttered, stepping over it and continuing down the hall. The noise faded away behind her, only to reappear again a minute or so later from somewhere ahead. She moved cautiously until she found another tape recorder in her path.

“I said,” she repeated, “Quit it.” She lined up her foot with the side of it and kicked hard. It landed against the wall with an immensely satisfying crash.

The third one, she stomped directly into the ground where it sat.

The fourth, she took some time with, snapping apart every delicate mechanism her fingers could find like an animal ripping marrow from bone.

It was this image in her head that made her pause when she reached the fifth one. 

“Alright,” she conceded. She turned it over in her hands and paused to click her nails between the buttons before slipping it into her bag. “I’ll buy it. No one else could be this stubborn. Just don’t get cozy, I’m chucking you off a building when we’re done here, got it?”

The tape recorder continued to hum.

“I find it unlikely that you’ll get the chance, Ms. King.” Elias’ voice echoed around the space. The Archive sounded larger than she remembered. "Talking to oneself is hardly a good sign of stability. Or is it just that you’ve no one left to talk to?”

Melanie froze, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Only echoes. Echoes with a metallic flare around the edges. She kept moving.

“Your allies must be more cowardly than I anticipated to send you in alone,” Elias chuckled from what Melanie was now sure was a loudspeaker overhead. “Either that, or they find you exceptionally expendable.”

“Is that what all this is about?” Melanie called into the Archive. “Do you just not get what friends are? I’m honestly curious. I’ll almost feel sorry for you if you can convince me you’re just sad about how nobody likes you. Go on. Make me care.”

“Oh, but you have much more experience with people feeling sorry for you,” said Elias. Melanie did not slow her pace. His words were flat, empty of any power that could touch her, but an unshakable chill was bubbling up through her ribs. Something else was in there with her. “Your whole plan to escape this place hinged on pity. Being pathetic enough for them to let you go. For her to give you somewhere to stay when you did.”

Melanie gasped at the cold that spiked into her chest. The Archive was so quiet, quieter than anything she had ever not heard before. Her cane swept and swung through empty air, taking longer and longer to find the floor beneath her. The sound of the tape recorder was entirely lost in her bag. Even Elias’ voice was distant, muffled by the faint, high-pitched squeal of static from the thing that was trying to consume her. It was the same quiet that had found her in the hospital room after Jon tried to gut the Slaughter out of her. The quiet that followed her home to her flat. It clutched at her throat like tears, the silence of something cornered, unable to run and unwilling to simply die.

_ Somewhere to stay… _

Again, as before, it was Georgie’s voice that broke the silence.

_ Do you need a place to stay? _ Melanie heard, as clear as the day Georgie had said it. Georgie’s arms were wrapped around her waist, her heartbeat reverberating through her chest. Their fingers were twined around each other, their legs a tangle of denim and warmth. The quiet couldn’t touch them, then. Not in the flickering murmur of late-night television, together on Georgie’s couch. It wasn’t the house Georgie was inviting her into. It was this. It was them. And if Melanie stayed, the quiet would never be able to touch them again.

_ Do you need someone to stay with you? _ Melanie had asked. Georgie’s grip had tightened around her, and it took her a moment to answer, as though she had pushed the air from her own chest rather than Melanie’s.

_ I think so _ , Georgie had finally said.  _ If it’s you. I think… I think I do need you. _

“Elias,” said Melanie, here, and now, “I don’t think we’ve had one single conversation where you understood a goddamn thing you were talking about. That’s what’s pathetic.”

The cold inside her was shattered, melting away under the memory of Georgie’s touch. Melanie tapped around very briefly to reorient herself before continuing. Elias’ office couldn’t be far, now.

Her response - or, maybe the fact that she had responded at all - quieted him for a moment. “I have more important things to do than understand,” he drawled.

Melanie gestured with her free hand into the open air. “See, that’s the kind of thing you say about opera, or like, if your friend’s got a gender you haven’t heard of and you want to support them even if you don’t get it. You can’t just say that about the whole human condition.”

Elias laughed, smooth and self-satisfied. “Therein lies the difference between us. This is why I am seated at the throat of the world, while you crawl in the dark for answers.”

Perhaps a bit farther away than she had expected, Melanie found a wall, and, in it, what was unmistakably the office door.

“Mmm,” she said thoughtfully, “No, you know, that’s on me for thinking that talking to you would be anything but a giant waste of time. Hope you enjoy being stabbed.”

“Likewise, Ms. King,” Elias told her over the loudspeaker. Her hand froze on the door knob, which was already beginning to turn.

She flew back to the ground just in time to feel something swipe over her head precisely where her neck would have been. Catching herself on her palms, she kicked out hard, making contact with someone’s knees. There was an ungainly thud, followed by a squeal of pain and indignation. Something sharp bit into the side of her calf, and she brought her cane across to block another jab from whatever was holding it. The sound of rage, of violence, traced out a small body not far from her own. Not Elias. It was young, and scared of something it thought was more dangerous than her.

She could fix that.

The instinct welled up inside her, giving her strength and focus, but she pulled back from it. Her hand twisted around her attacker’s wrist before they could try for another swing. With a deep growl, she pulled them across her body, ramming their shoulder into the cold concrete floor. Her muscles strained to keep her head from meeting the same end as a hand wrenched around her neck. She locked her arm to keep the knife away from her, but a knee connected with her ribs. She punched out for a solar plexus - once, too low, a second time driving her knuckles deep into the attacker’s diaphragm.

A painful cry rasped frighteningly close to her face, but the hand closed tighter around her throat, even as the knife-wielding hand tried and failed to break free. She was much larger than her attacker, that was becoming clear, as every one of their limbs seemed locked just to reach her. With the last of her strength, she drove her fist into their arm. A wet crunch and a much more serious scream told her she’d figured out where their elbow was.

Her attacker’s hand shuddered free from her throat. She threw them onto their back, scrabbling to find and pin their limbs. They snarled beneath her, defiant noises made soft by the air failing to find their lungs. Their knife was so close to her fingers, their neck so open and vulnerable. Rage and triumph flooded her limbs, and she wanted desperately to show them what the violence they’d tried to visit upon her really, truly looked like.

"Try to breathe," she said, to her attacker and to herself. The words were muffled under the sound of the Slaughter resonating through the Archive. It had missed her. It sang that she had missed it, too. "Just- just lie still, be still. Be here."

This did nothing to stop her attacker from wriggling under her grasp. Every flex of something she'd injured was accompanied by a flinch, which only seemed to enrage them further. She tried not to focus on the heat emanating from the wound in her calf.

"I can't fix this for you," said Melanie. Her voice was trembling. "I really wish I could. I can’t fix this, but you can. You don't need to hurt me. It's okay."

Her attacker finally found their breath, and used it to scream. It was pain, it was shame, frustration, anger, terrible unrighteous anger. It was hideously familiar. Melanie twisted their wrist, her fingers finding theirs, and the knife clattered away from them both.

"I know," Melanie said through gritted teeth. The floor was growing slick with her blood. "I know, it’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to live with this. But the only alternative is not living, and you can’t do that. I don’t care what he told you. I don’t care what he promised, he’s lying, and it’s not worth it. I’m not going to let you.”

And so she waited. She waited until the screams turned to sobs, until her leg grew cold and numb. Her chest still throbbed where the attacker had kicked her; a broken rib, maybe. As they sat in growing silence, she wondered if it had punctured anything.

There was a noise from the person underneath her.

“Okay?” she hissed.

The noise came again, softer, less certain. A wrist turned gently under her hands. The attacker’s fingers brushed against her skin and stayed there.

“Okay,” she said.

She loosened her grip just the barest amount, and their hand darted down to hold hers. Their fingers closed too tightly at first, as though that was the only way they knew how to behave. She waited for them to relax, gradually unpinning them as they did so. Finally, she was able to sit back. Every part of her cried out in protest. Her muscles burned with the memory of the fight, aching for more of it to dull the pain.

“We’re okay,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure, anymore.

A hand rested on the side of her face, a thumb brushing over where her eye used to be. “Nice, isn’t it?” she said hoarsely. “Did it myself. Seems like ages ago, now. "

The hand flitted to her leg, and she sucked in a startled breath as a wave of pain cut through the numbness. “Ahh. How- How bad, is it?”

The person who had attacked her let out an unhappy moan. Melanie tensed as they retrieved the knife with a distant scrape, but it was far too late to do anything about that now if they decided to turn on her again. Instead, she heard a shuffling and tearing of cloth. Strange hands tried to unfold her leg out from under her, and she assisted as best she could. Their grip trembled on her skin. Melanie wondered if they felt the same ache that she did.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” asked Melanie. “Like, I get it. But that’s gonna make this difficult.”

The other person laughed. It sounded unusual in a way that she couldn’t quite place. Not inhuman, but the sound was shaped differently than Melanie was used to. They pressed a finger to her lips very gently, before tapping her ear a couple times.

She nodded.  _ Damn that man, _ she did not say aloud.

“What an absolute cock,” she said instead, having taken a moment to consider a stronger insult. The attacker laughed oddly again. “He’s not even here, is he?”

They made an uncertain-sounding hum, and Melanie sighed. “Just hiding, then. Typical. Doesn’t even have the decency to let me murder him, after all we’ve been through. Anyone else I need to fight?”

A small hand closed around Melanie’s and squeezed, and she smirked. “Thought so. Just the one? Big, hairy, mean as hell? Christ, I hope Elias didn't make you take on _her._ Here- once for yes, two for no.”

One squeeze, accompanied by a gentle tug back the way the direction she came as Melanie struggled to her feet.

“C’mon,” Melanie said, providing a reassuring squeeze back. “I'll take care of her, you're fine. There’s something else we need to take care of, first, though. It’s going to be easier with your help.”

* * *

Basira came to stand next to Georgie, staring into the barrier of darkness that surrounded the Institute. It was what had kept them from going in with Melanie in the first place; the Dark was dangerous, but drastically less so for someone who couldn't see. She granted Georgie a respectful, if uncomfortable, silence until Georgie felt like speaking.

“She’s been gone too long,” Georgie finally said.

“It’ll take longer if you watch,” Basira commented.

“I don’t get how you’re so calm,” said Georgie, laughing nervously. “Daisy’s in there, too.”

Basira nodded. “Are you gonna judge me if I say something bad?”

“Probably,” said Georgie. They exchanged a tired smile.

“I’m not worried about her,” Basira admitted. “I’m worried about seeing her again. When she left, she was… In a bad way. She was barely herself. But those last few moments, when she gave into the Hunt? That’s the Daisy I used to know. I’m starting to realize, I don’t think I ever knew what she was really like. And I don’t know what I’m hoping is going to come out that door.”

“Yep. That’s pretty bad,” Georgie said grimly.

“How did it work out with Melanie?” asked Basira. “I remember when she was… bad. Almost as bad as Daisy. She’d changed so much, by the time she left. You were there with her through it.”

Georgie wished she could have told her that she couldn’t imagine things  _ not _ working out with Melanie. That there was never a moment of doubt in either of their minds. But that wasn’t fair, not to her and not to Melanie either.

“We’re still working it out,” said Georgie. “It just kind of kept going. That’s the point, isn’t it? At some point, I just started to like my life better with her in it. I love who she is, the way she makes me feel, the things she makes me want to do. And so does Melanie. She told me she liked who she was around me. Said she wanted to be that person all the time. So we both decided to help make each other a little more… us. If that makes sense. And we haven’t stopped since.”

Basira looked pained, as if she understood more than she could say. “I wasn’t ready for Daisy to change. I think… I think I am, now. I know that’s not fair, but it’s all I’ve got. I want to get to know the person she wanted to be. I don’t know if that’s someone she can be, anymore. But it’s the right thing to help her try. Right?”

“Only thing you  _ can _ do,” Georgie shrugged. Basira nodded once, then again more firmly, and they slipped back into their uneasy silence.

“That’s if Melanie doesn’t kill her, first,” Basira added after a minute or so.

“That’s not-” Georgie exclaimed, “She wouldn’t! That’s not on the table, is it?”

“She’s about the only person I’ve ever met who could,” said Basira. “But it’s been a long time for both of them. And you’re right. Melanie wouldn’t.”

Georgie considered this, and could not stop herself from being the tiniest bit proud.

As they stood and soaked in their uncertainty, a distant howl broke through the wailing of the Change. Basira’s face remained calm, but she tightened her grip on her jacket.

“Daisy,” she murmured.

“MELANIE,” Georgie screamed into the darkness, cupping her hands around her mouth, “Can you hear me?”

The howl faded into a scream, which overlapped with a yell, and the three sounds emerged from the darkness together. A huge, hulking form moving too quickly to really recognize tore across the space between the Institute and their barricade. As it skidded back and forth towards them, Georgie was able to pick out two people clinging to the back of an enormous wolf. The larger person appeared to be whacking it in the face furiously with a cane.

“Go -  _ faster, _ dammit -” Melanie’s distant voice cut through the snarling, “No,  _ away _ from - Don’t  _ tell _ me you don’t know what’s happening, you great hairy idiot! I’m  _ blind _ and I know which way’s away from the big fuck-off tower!”

“Should we do something?” Georgie asked doubtfully.

“Yeah,” said Basira, “Move.”

At which point she yanked Georgie out of Daisy’s way, just in time for her to collide with the barricade. Their hard work crumpled like so much paper mache under her claws, but it was enough to bring her to a halt.

“Off off  _ off, _ ” Melanie screeched, just as Daisy collapsed onto her back and started aggressively writhing in the dirt to try and shake off her passengers. Melanie sailed through the air and landed hard, but Georgie was at her side almost before she hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” Georgie demanded. Melanie reached a hand up to rest on Georgie’s waist.

“I’m sure better now,” she said, smiling softly.

At a decidedly unsafe distance away, Daisy finally stopped struggling, twitching to a halt still on her back. Basira held her hands out and approached. There were no words for what she needed to tell Daisy. Even if there had been, there was no guarantee that Daisy would understand. Mercifully for both of them, what Daisy had to say didn’t require words.

She smiled. It was filled with teeth and blood, but it scrunched up her monstrous face with joy. Basira smiled back. Talking could wait for just a few more minutes.

“Right, so, I was trying to sound cool, but I did get stabbed,” Melanie pointed out. “Should probably, um. Look at that. Someone with eyes.”

Georgie set to work examining her leg, but Basira’s eyes traveled up and past Daisy. Her face set back into a stony glare. “Get up, both of you. You were followed.”

The person standing behind Daisy looked to be a teenager of some kind, wearing sweatpants and the remains of an oversize T-shirt with a comic book character on it. Their hair was short and choppy, and caked with something that might have been blood. They clutched a large kitchen knife in one hand, the other hanging limply at their side.

“S’alright,” Melanie called out, unable to see the tense standoff between Basira and the teenager. “We’re friends, now. I’m calling ‘em Stabby, after they stabbed me. Did I mention I was stabbed?”

“What’s your name?” Basira demanded of the teen. They bit back a smile at Melanie’s comment, and made an exaggerated stabbing motion into the empty air. Basira scowled. “Enough. Start talking, or get on your way.”

Daisy had sprawled onto her stomach and was staring over her shoulder, and even Georgie had glanced up from Melanie. The teenager looked around uncomfortably before opening their mouth in silent response.

“Oh, my God,” Georgie exclaimed.

“What?” asked Melanie.

“Right,” said Basira, “Okay. Welcome to team Murder Elias.”

“What happened, what did they do?” Melanie insisted.

“Th-” Georgie stopped short, and leaned up to address the teenager. “Oh, I’m so sorry, have you got pronouns?”

The teenager stared off into the distance with some alarm, as though genuinely trying to remember, before lifting the knife again with a hapless sort of grimace.

“That would be ‘they’,” Georgie translated to Melanie. “They, um… There’s not a nice way to say this. They don’t have a tongue.”

“ _ What?! _ ”

“Someone’s done something to it, Elias must have-”

“Oh fuck  _ you _ ,” Melanie howled to the sky. “ _ Some _ body- Basira, tell him fuck you so he can see it.”

“On it.” Basira strode to the edge of the camp to start making offensive gestures towards the tower, and was quickly joined by the teenager. They froze when Basira glanced down at them. Basira stared awkwardly for a moment, mulling several different conversations around behind pursed lips. “You know signs?”

The teen shook their head.

“We’ll get you sorted. Let’s start with some rude ones, while we’re here. Bring your hand up- then your other hand, and that one back down. Now, that’s ‘bastard’...”

With everyone occupied, Daisy had shaken herself to her feet and was pacing around the group. Without making eye contact, Basira held out her hand palm-down, and Daisy nudged herself under it, settling at her side.

“Look at you, though,” Georgie said soothingly, her hands brushing over Melanie’s injuries. “You dragged two people out of there. Only had to tear yourself in half to do it.”

“That’s what I’ve got two halves for,” said Melanie. “Least I got the detonator all set up.”

Georgie froze. “You what?”

“The explosives? That was the plan: Go in, find Daisy, blow the place to hell.”

“Melanie, we’re not out of the blast radius,” Georgie explained. Basira was still occupied, but Daisy had paused to listen in on their conversation, and let out a nervous whine.

“Why didn’t anyone mention that?” asked Melanie.

“Why didn’t you say you’d set the explosives!” Georgie shot back. “I’m going to get you up, alright?”

“Hang on, she  _ what _ ?” Basira echoed. The teenager signed one of their newly-learned expletives.

They made something that could generously be called a mad dash for the van slumped at the far edge of the camp. Daisy scooped up the three of them as they were trying to figure out how to support Melanie’s leg, and paused just long enough for the teenager to grab on before bolting away from the tower. Behind them, the sound of cracking stone and splintering wood echoed impossibly loud, driven into their heads from somewhere beyond reality.

The Earth shook.

And it shook again.

And the last thing that they remembered was a light so bright and red that it could have shone from inside some living thing, straining through blood and against flesh and into the very being of everyone with eyes to see it.

* * *

For a moment, Melanie was frightened that the explosion had damaged her hearing. 

Before the Change, the world had been filled with city noise. There was always a passing car or a muffled voice nearby to remind her that she was never truly alone. If there wasn’t someone moving, there was the hum of machinery, some mechanism supporting her life with the gentle touch of electricity. After the Change, of course, there was terrible music. The crush of a million heartbeats struggling to destroy each other from a distance. A discordant harmony of screams. Now, there was nothing.

Gradually, her other senses returned, and she could feel the weight of Georgie wrapped bodily around her legs. At least, it made the most sense for it to be Georgie- Melanie brushed a hand through the person’s hair to be sure, and they stirred under her fingers.

“How’re you doing down there?” Melanie whispered. It seemed inappropriate to say anything loudly. Georgie’s hand - and it definitely was Georgie’s hand - came up to meet Melanie’s free one, and she squeezed gently.

Georgie coughed, once thickly and a second time as a pure formality. “Better now. What… Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

“Dammit, stop doing that,” Melanie laughed, “What do you see?”

“We’re out of it,” Georgie said quickly, “Melanie, it’s- well, it’s not back to  _ normal _ , but it’s like we’re backstage, almost. All the crazy special effects are just gone.”

Distantly, Melanie could hear the wind coasting through hollow buildings. She could smell the weight of it, empty of living movement. But there was something underneath. The stale air was agitated and undercut with something fresh and unfamiliar. It reminded Melanie of the aftermath of a cleaning spree, of dust motes moving through the sunlight and the feeling of smooth, empty surfaces. There was a very faint noise that it took her far too long to identify.

“Are those… birds?” she asked.

“Must be,” said Georgie.

“Basira,” Melanie pressed, “And Daisy, and the stabby one, are they…?”

“They’re here,” said Georgie. “Daisy um, landed on top of them, it looks like, but I think they’ll be alright. Everyone’s going to be alright.”

The longer Melanie waited, the more the world seemed to come alive around her. Somewhere nearby there were trees, alive and rustling and moving. She could feel the sun, for the first time in what felt like years. Daisy’s breathing was a soft, heavy rumble like crashing waves nearby.

“She didn’t turn back, then?” asked Melanie.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Georgie said slowly. “I don’t think this is going to happen all at once.”

Melanie sat up, her hand tracing up to the back of Georgie’s neck. She smiled, and Georgie’s hand settled over hers.

“Nothing ever does.”


End file.
